II
But the Tank Corps was at last at an end of its resources both in machines and in men.
Pending reinforcements from England, they could at the moment muster but eight machines that could be sent after the flying enemy, and therefore, though the Armoured Cars went on, it was on November 5 that the last Tank action of the War was fought, when eight Whippets of the 6th Battalion took part in an attack of the 3rd Guards Brigade, on the northern outskirts of the Forest of Mormal.
The weather was atrocious and the country most difficult for a combined operation, for it was intersected by numerous ditches and fences, which rendered it ideal for the rearguard actions which the Germans were now fighting all along their front.
[105]“At 10 a.m. on the morning of November 5 the 3rd Guards Brigade, having pushed through the 1st and 2nd Brigades, were ordered to continue the advance by bounds.”
THE WESTERN EDGE OF MORMAL FOREST
A “WIRELESS” TANK
No definite orders had reached the Whippets’ Company Commander as to what part—if any—his machines were to play.
He and the General commanding the 3rd Guards Brigade, however, came to the conclusion that in view of the nature of the ground and the fact that the Bultiaux River would have to be crossed in the first stage of the battle, the Whippets should lead the attack upon the second, third and final objectives only.
Two Tanks proved unfit for action, owing to mechanical trouble. The three Tanks which covered the advance of the Grenadiers found themselves in a country of small orchards divided by extremely high hedges, where it was most difficult to locate the enemy machine-guns whose fire was here considerable.
The Whippets therefore worked up and down the hedges like ratting terriers, being ordered to[106]“fire short bursts along them for moral effect even when no enemy were visible.” This they did, and found a few fleeting targets before returning to get in touch with the infantry.
Two Whippets which were co-operating with the Scots Guards met with a good deal of opposition. Twice had they and the infantry attempted to capture and consolidate high ground beyond the village of Buvignies.
The driver of the first Tank was hit as he was endeavouring to put right a minor mechanical trouble, and the second Tank went on alone.
In attempting to run over an enemy rifle-pit, it ran on to a jagged tree stump and was damaged, finally breaking down in the enemy’s lines beyond Buvignies. [107] From accounts of civilians, who were behind the enemy’s lines, it appears that the crew held out till midnight, the Tank being then blown up.
“They also reported that after the Tanks had been through Buvignies the enemy hurriedly departed, and also vacated the railway, which had been holding up the Grenadiers.”
The 3rd Guards Brigade pushed forward unopposed for a mile and a half during the night, but when darkness came the four remaining Whippets were ordered to rally.
“It was decided not to use these four on the following day, and work was concentrated on getting fit the six Whippets which might be made available to trek or fight.”
For, though that through all this period we knew well enough that the end had come, in these last few days of the War we acquired a new tradition. It became the magnificent custom of the British Army to act as though the War would go on for ever.
The spirit that says, “I’ve been lucky so far. Why tempt Providence with the War won, anyway?” must have reared its head in every man. But it was rigorously kept down, and never among the attacking troops in these last tense days was there found any inclination to spare themselves or to spoil our victory by undue chariness of life and limb. Not only in the racking circumstances of the battlefield, but also behind the lines, this new tradition was manifest, and after the 5th the Tank crews were everywhere feverishly engaged, day and night, in refitting and furbishing up their machines on the complete assumption that they would surely be called upon to fight again. Everywhere, too, the Staffs were busy endeavouring to build up an organised fighting force from the scarred, battle-weary remnants of the Corps.
The Tank Corps’ record since August 8 was indeed a remarkable one. There had been ninety-six days of almost continuous battle since that great Tank attack, and in these ninety-six days about two thousand Tanks and Armoured Cars had been engaged.
Nearly half this number of machines had been handed over to salvage. Of these, 313 had been sufficiently badly damaged to be sent to Central Workshops, who had repaired no less than 204 of them and reissued them to battalions. Of the whole 887, only fifteen machines had been struck off the strength as beyond repair.
The personnel, too, had been lamentably reduced. However, the total strength of the Tank Corps on August 7, 1918, had been considerably under that of a single infantry division, and in the old days of the artillery battles, such as the First Battle of the Somme, an infantry division often sustained 4000 casualties in twelve hours. In comparison, the Tanks’ losses of just 3000 in three months, out of a fighting strength of under 10,000, seem comparatively light. They were heavy enough, however, effectually to cripple the Corps for several weeks.